Page 57 of Soul of Discretion

He forced a cheery grin. “Hey, you. Glad you could join me for lunch.”

Nick shrugged broad shoulders. “Not like I had anything else to do.”

Simon’s radar pinged. He’d had a feeling he knew what Nick’s issue was and he hoped to resolve that today. “Have a seat. I’ll pour you a glass.”

Nick sat down and watched silently as Simon poured two glasses of wine. He gestured to the table. “Help yourself to the food.”

Again, in silence, Nick picked up a slice of bread, slathered it with butter, and put a couple of pieces of roast beef on top.

Bloody hell, Simon thought. He’s in a real sulk. Simon made himself a cold pork sandwich, took his wine, and came around the table to sit next to Nick.

“You okay, hotshot?” Simon asked. “You seem a little down. You have been all week.”

Nick puffed out air and sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass. I’m frustrated sitting around doing nothing. It’s like being on a permanent holiday, and I’m not cut out for it. I’ve been looking for work opportunities, so I can find a job before my six- month grace period is up, but turns out no one wants an ex-Mountie.” He laughed sharply.

Simon grinned. This was something he could help with. He gestured with his wineglass. “Remember I told you about that friend of my father’s who runs a rather large private security company over in Devonport, near the naval base?”

Nick nodded. “I remember.” His tone held a tinge of warning. Simon wondered why.

“His name is George Placket. He’s looking for someone—”

Nick’s reaction shocked him. “Christ, Simon, enough already, eh?” He stood up and paced around the room like a stalking tiger.

Simon stared at him. “What the fuck? What have I done?”

Nick glared at him. “What haven’t you done? Shit, I knew moving here was going to be a challenge, but it’s all been too much.” Nick swiped the top of Simon’s desk, sweeping everything onto the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up, as Simon gawped at him.

What the fuck has got up his ass? I know he’s been struggling, but this seems a little over the top.

“I know you mean well, but I’m not a damn whore that needs keeping. I can make my own way in the world, in case you hadn’t noticed. You getting a job for me through one of your rich contacts doesn’t constitute ‘making my own way’ by any stretch of the imagination.”

“What the ever-loving fuck?” Simon asked, trying to stem the well of temper that coursed through him. He stood up to face his irate lover, trying not to step on the documents and pens that littered the floor. One of those pens was an antique Mont Blanc.

Nick was breathing heavily, face dark and eyes filled with anger. “Si, I know you mean well, but I need to do this on my own. I live with you at a place you pay for. You supply all my food. You don’t let me pay rent, even though I have the money from the sale of my aunt’s house in the bank. I have enough to last for a while. I don’t want you to feel that you have to provide for me. I have my pride.”

He walked over to stare out at the waterfront below, shoulders tense.

Simon narrowed his eyes and perched on the corner of his desk. “First, that was possibly the most incredibly dramatic gesture I’ve ever seen live. I’ve seen it done in the films, but you were something else. Second, why the fuck would you think I’ve got you a job? If you’d let me finish, you might have seen where I was going with it.” Simon drew in a deep breath. “Third, you are not ever to call yourself a fucking whore again. We have a partnership, you shithead, and that means we do things together. So what if you live with me and eat my damn food? You contribute to the housekeeping, hell, we take turns in cooking and we are equals. I have never seen you as someone who needs providing for, and I’m sorry if you felt that way. That wasn’t my intention.” He stopped, out of breath.

Nick’s shoulders relaxed and he turned to face Simon with a wry smile. “I know,” he said softly.

“You know?” Simon squeaked. “Then why the fuck all this?” He gestured to the floor.

“Sorry,” Nick muttered. He bent down to pick up the papers and other desk-related stuff.

Simon shook his head ruefully. “Oh, and lastly, you idiot, I don’t have a bloody mortgage, so I don’t pay for the place. It’s free of debt.” He pulled Nick to him. “Honey, will you let me tell about George’s offer? Grab your wine, let’s sit down, and we’ll sort the mess out in the minute.”

Simon made sure to pick up his treasured Mont Blanc pen before he sat down.

They sat side by side, and Simon considered his words carefully. Nick slumped in his chair, looking at Simon. He cast guilty glances at the desk and the floor and Simon held back a chuckle.

“George has this huge security company that has a large portfolio. He tackles cybercrime, forensic accounting, security training and management, and anti-money laundering.” His voice trailed off as he took a sip of his wine, heartened by Nick sitting up in straighter in his chair. “Anything you can think of, he does. He specializes in fraud and port security, being so close to the docks. One thing he’s always looking for are consultants with specific police and investigation skills. I told him about you, and he said he’d grant you an interview.”

Nick quirked a brow.

Simon snorted. “If you knew George at all, you’d know he’d never take anyone on as a favour, no matter who the hell they were, and that you’d get the job based on merit and qualifications alone. He’s made Portland Security into a huge international consortium and he has a reputation to uphold. Getting an interview with his company is a feat in itself. There, I admit I did trade in on my father’s past relationship with him. You getting a job there? That’s all on you.”

He took another gulp of his drink and made himself another sandwich, with roast beef this time.

Nick leaned forward. “So if I go for the interview and get the job, presuming I like what he’s offering, he’ll sponsor me into the UK and help me get a work visa?” Nick’s tone was suddenly hopeful, and Simon heaved a silent sigh of relief.

Crisis averted.He nodded. “Yes, that’s how it works. No pressure for you, though. If you don’t like the sound of the place or the job, obviously, you say no. We’ll figure something else out. Together.”

Simon had no doubt that once Nick met the charismatic and rather crazy George that they’d get on like a house on fire. Fingers crossed, Simon thought. You aren’t going anywhere, Nick Cooper. You’re mine now.

Nick spun his wineglass for a while then slowly nodded his head. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll go to the interview.” He grinned suddenly. “Sorry about the hysterics. Maybe I can get down on my knees and clean it up, and you can stand up and supervise?” His eyes gleamed wickedly, and Simon’s pants were suddenly far too tight. A blowjob right now would finish off lunch perfectly.

“That is indeed an excellent plan,” he decreed as he stood up and walked over to the door, then locked it. “I’m really glad we had this little discussion.”

The sound of Nick’s soft laughter behind him was balm for his soul.